Beautiful Reflection
by Ranecollaboration
Summary: MOST OF THESE CHARACTERS BELONG TO CP COULTER :   However, some of them are ours:   This is a Rane Collaboration fic, there are 7 of us: Alison, Albie, Elara, Ellie, Aumtumn, Brittany and Lisa  Enjoy :
1. Chapter 1

**Preface: Reed**

A five-year-old Reed Van Kamp sat down at the table to eat his lunch. Marge, his nanny and mother's housekeeper, set down his plate and grape juice before smiling at the curly haired boy and walking out of the room. Reed started nibbling on his carrot sticks, smiling happily to himself. A few minutes later his mother, Hilde, sat down at the other end of the table with a bottle of water. "Hi, mommy." Reed smiled wide at her.

Hilde glanced up from a magazine she was looking at. "Reed, dear, don't talk with food in your mouth. It's not polite."

Reed's smile withered and he swallowed his food, debating whether or not he wanted to talk to his mom about something. He decided to go for it. "I have a friend, mommy, his name is Shane."

"Is that so?" She asked without looking up at Reed.

"Yes. He's younger than me, only four years old. He has curly hair like mine, but it's dark and not light like mine is. Oh, and his eyes are really pretty. They're green and gray. They're the most prettiest eyes ever, mommy." Reed got a little excited thinking about his friend and everything kind of spilled out towards the end.

"Really? How do you know this boy, Reed?" Hilde asked, this time setting the magazine down to look at her son.

"He lives in my mirror in my room. I talk to him every night." Reed smiled proudly at his mom.

Hilde raised her eyebrows in response. "Hmm… Well I don't want you staying up late to talk to your… _friend_."

Reed's smile instantly faded, but he didn't argue with his mother. He knew arguing was never okay. "Yes, mommy…" Reed looked back down at his plate and continued eating.

Later that night, Reed sat on the floor in his bedroom looking at a picture book. He was almost finished flipping through the pages when two men walked into his room. They were both wearing jeans and t-shirts with some kind of writing on it, but Reed couldn't tell what it said. His mom had left an hour ago to do something work related, so he couldn't ask her who these strange men were.

Then, the two of them started taking his things away. First went his dresser. Reed was terribly confused as to what was going on. He didn't question the men, because that wouldn't be polite and Reed was afraid his mom would get mad at him again.

Reed grabbed his picture book and scooted to the furthest corner of his bedroom, hugging his knees and just watching as they kept taking his stuff. His bed, desk and chair, nightstand, wardrobe; all of it was gone. Reed didn't understand anything at the moment. He didn't know why this was happening or who these strangers were. They didn't seem to pay much attention to Reed, probably not even noticing him taking up so little space in the spacious bedroom.

It wasn't until the two men came back into his room for the last item that he felt the hot tears silently falling down his cheeks. They were taking his mirror. Reed wanted to say something, to say _anything_ so that they would bring his mirror back. How could he talk to his four-year-old friend, Shane, every night if they took away his mirror?

As soon as the men started bringing new furniture in, Reed bolted to go find Marge, stumbling on the way. It was hard for him to see through his tears and he ended up collapsing on the floor in the playroom, too exhausted to look any further.

A few seconds later Marge hurried into the room and sat on the floor, picking a heavily crying Reed up and holding him tightly in her arms. She had overheard the conversation he had earlier with Hilde and figured that the men taking his mirror away was why he was so upset right now.

Marge rubbed Reed's back and whispered reassurances into his ear, which only helped slightly. To Reed, Marge was like a second mother. She was always at home with him and always comforted him when he needed it the most. Just like he needed it right now. Reed just didn't understand anything. He didn't know why anybody would take his mirror away. Would Reed ever get to see Shane again? Thinking about it only made Reed cry harder, and eventually he exhausted himself out and fell asleep in Marge's arms.

**Preface: Shane**

Shane's unruly curls bounced as he practically ran up to his room, clutching his new teddy bear, Macy.

His mommy had just gotten it for him and every time he got a new toy, he would always go and show it to Reed first. Shane knew that Reed appreciated it, because after all, it was a pretty big deal. Shane's friends from kindergarten didn't even get to see it before the day after.

And this time, he hadn't even shown it to his dad, so it was an even bigger deal.

He ran into his room excitedly, his socked feet softly thudding against the rug.

He plopped down on the big pillow that was already lying in front of the tall mirror and settled Macy in front of him, and waited.

But Shane, being Shane, quickly got tired of simply waiting and after a few seconds, he knocked on the glass softly with his small fist.

Nothing changed. All he could see in the mirror was his own reflection and the surroundings.

Shane's face scrunched up in confusion. Reed and Shane always talked around this time of night… right? He wasn't entirely sure of course. He still didn't know how to read the clock. It was too hard with all the minutes and seconds and whatnot.

He glanced out the window. It was dark outside, which meant that Reed should've shown up by now.

Shane looked into the mirror again, bottom lip pushed out in an unhappy pout.

Why wasn't Reed there? After all, they'd promised to stay best friends forever and best friends always played together.

"Doesn't he want to play with me?" he asked Macy. But all he got from the stuffed bear was a blank stare.

Shane huffed and glared at it. "What? You don't want to play with me either?"

He dropped the bear annoyed and pushed it aside, sitting closer to the mirror. "Reed?" he called. "Reed, you there?"

He leaned his cheek against the cold glass. "Reed?", he said again, a lump starting to build up in his throat. He really missed his best friend.

But he was only met by his own unhappy voice.

**12 years later  
>Shane<strong>

The halls of Walcott High School are crowded and busy as Shane Anderson makes his way throughout the masses to his next class. He walks with his head held high, a slight swing of his hips, and a lazy grin plastered on his face. The curly haired boy oozes confidence and charisma that makes the girls swoon. Any one of these girls could be Shane's in a heartbeat.

He sees groups of girls huddled together, whispering as he passes by and smirks to himself. They don't know that he's not interested- that he's not _ever _going to be interested.

"Hi, Shane!" comes a perky, high pitched voice on Shane's left. A girl with flaming red hair stands against the wall, clutching her books to her chest. The look of adoration blatantly shown on her face mirrors the rest of the female population attending Walcott.

With a bright smile, Shane walks over to the girl with the red hair. She blushes the shade of her hair as Shane focuses his attention on her.

"Well, hi there, Macy. How are you doing today?" Shane's voice is light and airy as he talks to his on again off again "girlfriend". To be honest, no one really knows what they are. All they know is that Shane holds her hand in the halls and gives her a quick, light peck on the cheek when they part go their separate way. Sometimes Shane takes her home and his dad walks in on them kissing on the couch. He mumbles something about his "good straight son" before leaving them to continue.

But Shane doesn't like her. In fact, he doesn't like girls at all. The only reason he's sort of seeing Macy is to keep his cover. If anyone found out he was gay… Shane didn't even want to think of the consequences. After Shane's brother, Blaine, came out by accident the year before, Shane had been terrified of what would happen if anyone found out his sexuality.

And that's where Macy comes in. Of course, she doesn't even know that Shane is gay. She thinks he genuinely likes her. Shane feels the familiar guilt pooling in his stomach as he takes her by the hand and leads her down the hallway.

Macy smiles and continues talking to Shane but he doesn't really hear her. He's thinking back to a strange old mirror in the corner of his room. Thinking of the strawberry blonde confuses Shane, but also sends shivers of anticipation down his spine.

He lets his thoughts drift back to the little boy he saw in the mirror so many years ago. He thinks about how he's checked the mirror every single night, waiting for him to come back, but only sees darkness.

After a moment, he's snapped out of his reverie by Macy laughing in his ear. Apparently she had just told Shane something funny, so he puts on a smile and gives his best attempt at a lighthearted laugh.

Shane puts the mysterious boy out of his head for the moment, but knows that it won't be long before he enters his thoughts again.

**Reed**

"Reed, sweetie! How was your day?"

"Oh, it wa-

"Good, good. So did you manage to finish off those painting?"

"Oh, umm... No, well, sort of... I have a few things to do still bu-"

"Well you better get started then, Emergency at work... I may be gone for a few days but Marge is here. Ta ta!"

And just like that, Hilde Van Kamp was out the door. This wasn't uncommon for Reed; he was used to his mother going away on business trips... Most of them were short lived. But some of them went on for days.

Slowly, the small boy made his way up the stairs. His house was big, too big for Reed's taste. There were far too many rooms and only a quarter of them were in use. The room that he seemed to be spending the most time in was his painting room; it was big, wooden, and warm. It wasn't like the room had any heating; it was just that there was a big window overlooking the garden that faced the sun, from sunrise to sunset.

Placing his school bag in the corner of the room, he made his way over to the cupboard in which all of his paints were stored in. He had two more paintings to do; he would have finished them by now except for the frustrating lack of inspiration.

He had done 3 paintings, not that he liked them much... But they were what his mother wanted. As Reed looked in the cupboard, he noticed that he only had a small amount of paint left; he knew that he had been running out, but every time he thought to remind Marge it slipped from his mind.

Luckily for him though, his mother always kept about 2 years of paint supply in the attic in case he ran out before she could organize to get some more. Reed's paint was imported from France _"Only the best, Reed" _Hilde told him the one time he asked why he couldn't just buy normal paint from the store.

Reed headed out of the room and up to towards the banister to call out for Marge. Marge was essentially Reed's nanny, but she was also the housekeeper. She had been there as long as Reed could remember... She was like a mother to him. As much as his mother told him to, he never really asked her to do much for him; it would be like asking his mother to tidy his room.

The only thing that he would ever ask her help with was matters regarding the attic. Reed's mother never let him go up to the attic... He supposed it was just because he was awfully clumsy and it was probably cluttered up there... Two things that did not coincide well together. 

"Marge?"... No answer.

"Marge?" Usually she would reply, she was probably just out in the garden or something.

Reed decided that there was no point in bothering her, he could just go the attic himself... I mean, how bad could it be?

The attic staircase wasn't very pleasant; it smelt of dust, not the mention the hideous amount of spider webs... Reed hated spiders; even thinking about them sent chills down his back. Once reaching the top of the stairs, he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the minimal lighting, there were two skylights and the attic was big. Everywhere that Reed looked he saw some item of furniture with an old cloth draped over it, which looked like it must once have been white, but now was a musty brown.

Although there was a huge sense of abandonment, it was kind of magical in its own way, with the dust dancing in the rays of sunlight, and everything up here must have been something that had once belonged to his family at some stage, before his mother decided that she wanted to refurnish the house with new, modern furniture.

The painter felt like a child again, exploring something that was so new to him. He wondered why he had never been here before. Cautiously, he began towards a large object that was covered by one of the many cloths. Reed grabbed a handful of the material and pulled it away, coughing at the dust, he saw an old couch. It was beautiful, faded beige with flowers sewn into the fabric. The backboard of the couch must have been some sort of wood that had been painted gold, unfortunately now chipped.

As Reed began to turn away, something behind the couch caught his attention. Behind the old couch, was a tall, thin object covered with a cloth. Reed walked behind the couch; again, he grabbed a handful of the fabric and swept it off the tall object. Unfortunately, being Reed, one thing led to another and somehow he ended up tangled in the fabric on the ground.

Typical.

With a decent amount of struggle, he managed to free himself from the duct covered cloth to find that he was staring at a tall, antique mirror before him. It looked like an ordinary mirror, but something about it reminded him of something. He couldn't quite think what it was and it was going to _kill _him until he figured it out... What was it? Reed stood up and walked towards the mirror, _what was it? _He reached out a gentle brushed him hand along the middle...

"Reed?" Marge was calling from downstairs. He knew he shouldn't really be up here. His gazed snapped from the mirror as he remembered exactly what he was supposed to be doing. Paint. He looked around the room, and sure enough, there was a steel cabinet that held Reed's paint.

He reached the cabinet, staring at all of the colours. Which to pick? He grabbed some red, so yellow, blue, orange, and white, black... He turned around to head downstairs, but felt like he was missing something. The small painter looked back at the shelves, and found himself looking at the green. There was something about that colour that was strangely alluring. He grabbed 4 tubes of green, each different shades.

"Reed!"

That night, Reed stared at the canvas, in which Reed had begun to draw the outline of two eyes. He stared at the canvas for a long time. Finding himself stuck of what to do next. His mind kept on wandering back to the mirror, there was something so familiar about it, something that made his tummy fill with butterflies every time he thought about it. Unconsciously, Reed Van Kamp dipped his paintbrush in the green paint and started filling in the colour. Green eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Shane**

Shane trudged up his stairs, with his backpack heavy on his back, and his legs tired and weary. He had had the longest day in the history of days. With a Geometry exam first period, and an exam in English, he was being run ragged by midterms.

Then at lunch he had been trying to manage a quick cat nap in before the bell, but Macy insisted on talking to him. He had cancelled plans with her after school, due to a dance rehearsal he had forgotten about, and she decided to make up for the time during their lunch period. Shane didn't listen to her talk most of the time though. It wasn't his fault really…_She_ just wasn't able to keep him interested for a long period of time. No one really could.

Dance rehearsal had run late, and Shane was tired to the bone. Luckily, thanks to exams he had no work he needed to do, and all he wanted now was to lie down. He kicked open his door to his room, threw his backpack down, shut the door behind him, and fell his bed below him with a sigh.

He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. His schedule was always jam packed to make sure he never got bored, but with the stress he had been under recently, he wasn't handling it all as well as usual. Usually he could go and go, acting like a never ending ball of fiery energy. Now, knowing that one secret could bring his life down around him, he was tired. Tired of hiding, and tired of everything.

Shane missed the olden days. When he could just be himself, no confusion involved. Of course _now _he had those stupid _hormones _making him think things, and making him feel ways that he didn't want to feel.

He rolled over, and looked to the antique mirror leaning against his wall. He missed Reed. He hadn't seen the boy since he was so small, and he wasn't even quite sure he was real, but… He just had this feeling he couldn't shake about the memories he had involving the curly haired blonde boy. Shane had always missed his old best friend. He never stopped. That's why he still had the mirror in his room. The rest of his room looked like the average teenage boy's room, everywhere posters and clutter. But in one corner the old mirror still stood. For some reason, Shane still had hope he'd see the possibly imaginary boy again.

"Reed?" He called out, before he could stop himself. Maybe, just maybe, someday there would be a response. If not, he must have had quite the wild imagination as a child.

"Reed?" Shane stared at the ceiling, questioning his sanity, as he listened to the silence, waiting for a reply.

He grabbed a football off of the floor, and lay back on his bed, tossing the ball in the air.

"Reeeeeed?" He said, drawing out the one syllable name. He tossed the football again, and caught it just centimetres away from his face.

"Reed. Reed. Reed. Reed. Reed?" He said, throwing the ball up once again.

Then there was a clatter.

Shane didn't catch the football, and it smacked him in the nose. He winced, but he sat up lightning fast, and looked towards the noise, his eyes wide.

Then a soft voice spoke.

"I-Is someone there?" 

**Reed**

Reed chewed the back of his pen, denting it in several places. How on earth was he supposed to write an entire paper for English that was due tomorrow, yet set today, and counted towards his final grade? And instead of making a start on it his page was filled with mindless doodles, most of which he hadn't even realised he'd been drawing. Half finished, biro things that seemed all to be of a boy with spiralling dark curls and quite nice eyes, even if it was all it was were a scribble. There was a sound of something moving behind him and he swung round, eyes wide, only to find, obviously, nothing there. He guessed he really had been over working himself lately, but he had all these paintings on top of all his regular school-work he had to do. It was probably just Marge cleaning downstairs, or something.

But there it was again. Maybe they had a mice infestation, though that thought was worrying enough; personally he had nothing against the animals – he'd even wanted one as a pet when he was younger, but his mother's reaction would not be good, to say the very least.

"Reed?"

Safe to say he almost feel off his stool at that. Now that voice certainly wasn't Marge, as much as he wanted it to be, but it's hard to mistake a nearly 60 year old French woman for someone who sounded like a boy who was very much his age. He looked around the room, feeling stupid for doing so as he was positively sure there was no one else in there. But he'd heard it, there was no denying that, and as he checked under his bed, being the child he still was at heart, he tripped on a book that had been left open on the floor, flying forwards into his walk in wardrobe, landing flat on his face.

He opened his eyes, groaning, and finding himself at the foot of the old mirror that he had acquired from the attic, looking up at the reflection, of well, what was it exactly? Because the face that he could see certainly wasn't his own.

_You must've hit your head, that's all_, he though, trying and failing, to reassure himself.

"Reed?"

Silence.

"Reeeeeed?"

I-t couldn't be…

"Reed. Reed. Reed. Reed. Reed?"

No, it wasn't possible. Yet, despite the fact he was certain it was all in his head, he still found himself asking:

"I-Is someone there?"

**Shane & Reed**

No, _NO _it couldn't be… Could it? Was that really Reed?

Shane jumped of the bed, and stumbled towards the mirror, mouth gaping open. In his mirror, he found himself looking at a small, strawberry blonde headed boy, lying on the ground. His loose curls falling in front of his face, slightly covering his eyes… But his eyes, big and brown but bright at the same time. Shane remembered those eyes, he remembered his hair, but somehow his memory forgot how utterly beautiful he was.

Shane suddenly remembered what was happening "REED! You-you're _real_!"

Reed was looking up at the mirror, completely forgetting the fact that he was lying on the ground. What did he mean _you're real_...? What was happening?

"Ithoughtyouleftme… I started to not think that you were real, but you are! And you're here and- Reed, are you all right?"

Reed gave Shane a questioning look before he realized that he was on the floor. He quickly pushed himself up, blushing slightly. The small boy rubbed his eyes, what was going on! Mirrors were supposed to reflect you… right? So then why was he there!

Who was he, and why was he in Reed's mirror?

Shane suddenly realized that Reed may not remember him, feeling slightly offended at the though, he pushed his emotions aside "Reed, I'm Shane… Do you remember when we were little, you were 5 and I was 4… And you had a friend in the mirror. He had black, curly hair. Do you remember how we you and that boy used to talk, every single day for as long as you could remember." _Do you remember how one day you left me? Do you remember how I checked the mirror every night just in case you would be there? _"Do you remember that, Reed?"

Speechless, Reed couldn't seem to form words. So instead, he gave a cautious nod. Because Reed did remember that small boy, he remembered his bestest friend. Reed remembered how they would talk every day for as long as he could remember. He remembered how one day, a frightened little boy sat in the corner of his room and watched as big men took away his best friend. Reed remembered crying himself to sleep for a very long time because he missed his friend more than he could imagine. He remembered why that mirror had seemed so familiar to him.

But his best friend wasn't real, his mother wouldn't lie to him… right? He wasn't real, he couldn't be! Just an imaginary friend! But then who was that?

"That's me, Reed." Desperation poured through Shane's voice as he tried to get Reed to remember. "I'm just… bigger now."

Reed gulped. He started to recognize Shane's hair, that same olive complexion, the same green eyes… Green eyes! No… Maybe it was just a coincidence… It had to be. The artist mustered up the strength to reply "I-I remember… But you aren't real… You're just inside my head…"

"No, I'm not. I am living, and breathing, and talking. I'm here Reed."

Reed slowly reached his hand out and placed it delicately on the mirror's surface.

Shane saw his best friend reach out his hand and place it against the mirror. With a delay, Shane copied Reed's actions and placed his hand against Reed's.

Both boys stared at their hands, separated by their barrier. Reed broke his gaze away from his hand and looked up at Shane… It was really him, he was real.

Shane looked up, but Reed began to fade out of the reflection… getting fainter and fainter.

"Reed! Wait no! Don't go!"

"Shane… What's happening!"

Both boys had panic in their voices… Shane tried to remember, back to when they were little, is this how they would leave each other?

"Reed! You have to promise me something, promise me that at this time tomorrow you will come back to the mirror at the same time!"

"I promise"

With those last two word, Reed faded away from the mirror… leaving Shane with his own reflection.

**Reed**

Reed ran a hand through his golden curls with a deep sigh.

_What had just happened?_

A million thoughts were flying through his head, as well as memories. He remembered Shane from when he was younger. He remembered seeing him in the mirror, instead of his own five-year-old self. He remembered the warm and fuzzy feeling he used to get when he talked with his younger best friend. He remembered showing Shane his drawings, and Shane showing him his toys.

They were best friends.

But he'd always thought that Shane had just been imaginary. At first, when the mirror got taken away from him, he'd continued to insist that Shane was real. But his mom had simply told him that Shane was imaginary and he wasn't coming back, and eventually Reed just accepted that and stopped talking about him.

But now, it turned out that Shane wasn't imaginary. He was real. He was a real boy who was breathing and living.

Reed sat down on his fluffy bed, his brows furrowing in confusion.

It didn't make sense. At all.

This wasn't supposed to be real.

Reed didn't know what to think about it. He's life had always been somewhat normal. Maybe not easy, but most things made sense. He understood everything.

But _this?_

This _imaginary people coming to life thing?_

Was he supposed he supposed to understand it? Was he supposed to be happy? Sad, or maybe angry?

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

Because even though a part of him was ridiculously confused, there was also a part of him that actually was a little... excited.

His first best friend was actually real.

And it made Reed smile.

**Shane**

He couldn't believe it… it was Reed… Reed the only friend he had ….Reed the only person who understood him…Reed who he missed all those years… and yet there he was… and they spoke.

It has been so many years since they had last talked and not a single day passed by that Shane did not think of him or call out his name, though over the years he thought about him less and less.

He thought that Reed did not want to speak to him, was trying to avoid him, but that was not the case as he thought back to the conversation they had where Reed tried to explain how is mother took away the mirror along with the rest of his furniture and how he suddenly found the mirror in the attic and how he remembered Shane's green eyes and called out his name.

And now they had found each other and all was right in the world again. When he first heard Reed call out his name through the mirror, he at first thought that he was dreaming. He was used to that... calling out Reed's name every day, even though he knew he wouldn't reply... he just needed to try, he needed to hope.

Of late things had not been going so well and his entire life till now had been a lie and Reed's coming saved him to some extent. And as he sat thinking about the conversation they had, it was like meeting an old acquaintance which turned in to a best friend. And when he remembered the part of Reed accounting how he remembered Shane's eyes, it did something to him. From somewhere hope and another yet unnamed feeling spread through him.

He always knew how Reed looked; the image of him was engraved in his head. A small beautiful angelic boy with Red downy curls. But meeting the new Reed was a shock.

In a way he had not changed, Shane thought to himself as he laid down on the bed, still the cute little boy with the beautiful curly hair. Though now that he was teenager he looked… different. Still dainty but with beautiful, patrician features and curls like golden wheat grass which catches the setting sun light.

"Oh god he looked like an angel" thought Shane as he remembered the way Reed's hair curled up so beautifully and his hands and fingers…long beautiful artist's fingers.

He had always loved to draw and paint and now that hobby transcended into some type of career as he remember Reed telling him about some exhibitions he held.

Though towards the end of it Shane had lost all strain of thought as Reed had mesmerized him completely … unknowingly. Stop that he thought as he hugged an old soft toy, he doesn't think about you that way. He might not even...Don't spoil your friendship…

Shane didn't remember when he fell to sleep exactly, but he didn't stop thinking about Reed… How could he?


End file.
